The Newlyweds
by Scorpio71
Summary: While chasing Mastermind II to retrieve a stolen piece of tech, Gambit and Wolverine find themselves victims of her telepathic illusions. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Newlyweds

AUTHOR: Scorpio

FANDOM: X-Men

PAIRING: Logan/Remy

RATING: NC-17 / Adult / Mature Audience

WARNING: Misuse of mutant powers, Furries, slash, bad language, violence.

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men is owned by Stan Lee and Marvel Entertainment Group.

SUMMARY: While chasing Mastermind II to retrieve a stolen piece of tech, Gambit and Wolverine find themselves victims to her telepathic illusions. They awake to find their circumstances changed.

* * *

The Newlyweds

_by Scorpio_

* * *

Martinique Jason sighed and flipped her long blond hair back over her shoulder and adjusted the strap of her messenger bag. Checking to make sure she had everything, she opened the door of her room and stepped into the hall.

She was tired, annoyed, and more than a little nervous.

Martinique, who called herself Mastermind II in the mutant community, was a powerful telepath and illusionist. She wasn't a thief, and yet she'd somehow managed to let herself get talked into teaming up with the Reaver Reese to steal a newly designed, military grade power source for an energy converter.

Not the worst job she'd ever taken, but it had one huge downside. Her contractor had enemies.

So, she and Reese had found themselves pursued by Wolverine, Gambit, Jubilee and X-23. That was no one's idea of a fun time.

Then Reese had the idea to split up. Both Wolverine and Gambit were highly trained and experienced operatives, so they would also have to split up, each one taking one of the younger and less experienced girls with them.

Only, that's not what happened.

By some random chance of fortune, they'd run across Tabitha "Boom Boom" Smith and Samuel "Cannonball" Guthrie. Boom Boom and Cannonball were experienced operatives trained by Cable himself…and most likely they would call the man down for any help or needed extraction at a moment's notice.

That changed the odds quite a bit.

So, Wolverine and Gambit had chased after her, while Cannonball, Jubilee, X-23, and Boom Boom chased after her partner Reese.

Not fun. Not fun in the least.

Still, she lost them in the maze that was Las Vegas and that was a bigger relief than she was comfortable admitting. But truthfully, she had been tired, dirty, and jumpy as all hell. So she'd rented a room for the night under a false name and indulged in some much needed sleep.

Now…she just had to bide her time until her flight to Los Angeles was ready to leave. That meant food, which was good, and several hours of avoiding Gambit and Wolverine. Which was harder than it sounded.

Sighing, and secretly wishing that she'd either never taken this assignment or that it would miraculously be over right this instant, Martinique stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. It was a bit of a slow ride and then the doors opened up and she stepped out into the main lobby.

And stopped in her tracks, eyes wide in amused confusion.

It appeared the hotel was hosting a convention…of furries. Men and women of all shapes and sizes were wandering around dressing in head to toe animal costumes. Complete with full face masks, tails, and outfits for their animal persona.

It was probably the most bizarre thing she'd ever seen…and as a mutant mercenary, that said a lot.

Gaping, she was just about to push through the crowd of revelers and into the harsh Nevada heat when she saw Gambit and Wolverine stride through the front doors. Obviously they had tracked her down, but she watched as they had the same reaction to the furries as she had.

Then one of them pinched Gambit on the ass and the tall red haired man yelped and slid around to hide behind a chuckling Wolverine, his red eyes glowing with shock.

That's when Martinique had a most wonderful, naughty, and deliciously cruel idea. She needed to keep those two distracted and helpless while she waited out the time before she could catch her plane. And she was Mastermind II; the worlds greatest illusionist, the Princess of Mindgames.

And she was about to pull the biggest mindgame the world has ever seen; on Gambit and Wolverine.

She shivered in pleasure at the thought of the humiliation they'd suffer and the accolades she'd win by pulling this off. But first, she needed a disguise. Looking around, she saw a cat suit that would fit her nicely.

Walking over, she linked her arm in the furry's and gently led the person away and to a public restroom. Her telepathy had the person ambling along like a puppet even as she pulled all the information on the convention from her victim's mind. Then, once they were out of sight from everyone else, Martinique knocked the furry out with a well placed psi-bolt.

* * *

Gambit followed Wolverine into the gaudily decorated lobby of the mid-price hotel as the man sniffed and scented the air to test the faint trail of perfume he was tracking.

Remy wasn't normally one to hit femmes, but he wanted to smack Mastermind II upside the head just for being annoying and forcing them to trek halfway across the southwestern United States. She herself wasn't a big deal to the two men, but they couldn't let her deliver that power source to Donald Pierce.

The man just didn't need that kind of power at his fingertips. He'd use it to take over the Reavers…or possibly the Hellfire Club.

Then the door was swung open and they stepped inside.

They came to a jarring halt as they stared in amazement at a whole room full of people dressed up in animal costumes. And these were costumes that ol' Walt Disney would have keeled over in a dead faint if he'd seen them.

"…mon dieu…" he whispered softly as he gazed around.

A man in what seemed to be an aqua blue teddy-bear suit wearing a white and red striped speedo sauntered by. Then a short fat moose with big wide antlers and sunglasses danced past with a light pink cat wearing a bikini top and a short frilly skirt hanging on his arm.

"Hey Gumbo…did I crack my skull open an' ya forgot ta tell me?"

"Non…"

Remy looked over and saw a man in a dog costume, complete with collar and leash get hit on the nose with a rolled up bit of paper by a woman in a leopard costume. The leopard was wearing a ball gown and tiara.

"Mais, Gambit t'inks he be havin' a psychotic break wit' reality."

A hard sharp pain pinched his derrière and Remy yelped and spun to see a tall thin man in a white rabbit suit complete with waistcoat, bowtie, and top hat.

"Hey there good looking? No costume, huh? That's okay. I don't mind. Interested in a little bunny loving?"

Eyes wide and feeling completely out of his element, Remy didn't even think about it. He just stepped back and slid in behind Logan, peering up at the rabbit over the other man's shoulder.

"Uh…" he swallowed and said the first thing that came to mind. " Je suis desole. Remy already have a date."

Remy gave Logan a little push to keep the shorter man between himself and the rabbit guy.

"He wit' le Wolverine."

Logan turned slightly to look up and over his shoulder at Remy. Logan's expression was one of stunned amusement.

"What's that ya said, bub?"

Remy glared down at him swiftly and poked him in the back. Hard.

"Oui. He be Remy's loupgarou. No need f' any ot'er animal in Remy's life."

Logan jerked one arm back and his elbow connected to Remy's ribs. The taller man let out a little oof of breath and poked Logan again.

"Watch who ya callin' a werewolf, Cajun."

Remy straightened himself up and stepped back a bit from Logan. Not much in case he got pinched again, just enough to be out of elbow range. Then he grinned shakily at the rabbit guy and made a shooing motion.

"So, y' best be gettin' on wit' y'rself before Logan done decide on hasenpfeffer f' dinner."

The rabbit paused a moment and then blew him a kiss before he turned to shuffle off. Remy slumped slightly even as he gusted out a breath in a sigh of relief.

Logan gave a low rumbling chuckle and grinned up at Remy.

"This really freaks you out, huh?"

Just then, a lime green cat wearing a thick baby diaper, a bib around its neck and sucking on a pacifier skipped by them. Remy just gave the cat a pointed look and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh no. Dis be perfectly normal. Jus' like Mardi Gras, oui?" The sarcasm was thick in his voice and Logan chuckled again.

Sighing, Remy scanned the room. He just wanted to find Martinique and get out of here.

Then in-between one heartbeat and the next, he felt warm. Warm like he was back outside in the heat instead of inside the air conditioning. The scent of burnt cinnamon wafted past his nose and he shook his head as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

There was something important he was supposed to do. What was it?

"Hey! Congratulations!"

A man in a fuzzy panda bear suit handed over a champaign flute to Logan and then to him.

"Huh?"

Remy nodded his head in agreement with Logan's confusion, but simply sipped at his drink. He was thirsty and the bubbly looked good.

The scent of burnt cinnamon was back and his vision softened as he looked around. Colors and sounds seemed a tiny bit muted and everything seemed to sparkle on the edges. Very pretty effect, but it didn't worry him.

Instead, he could feel the tension melting out of his shoulders and back. Things were starting to make sense in a senseless sort of way and Remy was half convinced he was dreaming this. A sort of bemused acceptance of the surreality of the situation washed over him in warm waves.

He finished his champaign and grinned when another flute was pressed into his hands.

A woman in a cat suit with a full face mask walked over and Remy had the odd idea that she really was a real cat, cocktail dress and all.

"Are you ready for the big event?" she purred as burnt cinnamon swirled around him in thickening waves.

"Heh?" he murmured in confusion. "Wha' event, Mademoiselle Chatton?"

"Your wedding, of course!" the cat exclaimed.

Logan and Remy both blinked and then looked at each other. Remy opened his mouth to say something, but a mild dizzy spell had him busy swaying on his feet.

"Uh," Logan muttered, "I think I'm forgetting something here…something important."

Remy agreed and sipped at his champaign to think. His vision washed even softer and he nearly hummed with passivity.

"Maybe the rings?" the cat asked.

Remy surprised himself by saying, "Logan can't wear rings, chere Chatton. He sometimes run 'bout on all fours, oui? Dat'd ruin de ring an' hurt his hand."

Logan blinked owlishly, a confused expression on his face.

"Is that what I forgot? 'Cause I don't know…"

Burnt cinnamon was thick in the air that sparkled and flowed like a watercolor painting. Remy blinked slowly and hummed tunelessly in his throat.

"That's okay," said the cat. "We can arrange to have you two married off with matching bracelets instead."

Logan frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Remy just nodded.

"Remy likes jewelry. 'specially gold." He beamed a smile around at no one in particular. "Wit' diamonds an' garnets, oui?"

The cat shuffled them off to the front counter in a swirl of cinnamon, sparkles and brightly colored animals laughing and dancing around. Then the cat leaned towards the manager and gestured him over.

"These two gentlemen would like to get married here at the convention. If you could arrange to have someone bring a sample of matching bracelets for them to chose from and perhaps a minister to marry them?"

"Elvis."

Logan's eyes were dilated wide and a dazed look was on his face.

"If ya gettin' married in Vegas, it's gotta be done by Elvis."

Remy blinked at him and drank his champaign. This dream was strange, but he went along with it because that seemed like the right thing to do. So he smiled and nodded in agreement.

The manager lifted one eyebrow before his face smoothed out to blankness and he picked up a phone.

A long line of animals began to come up to them one by one and congratulate them on their nuptials and thanked them for letting the convention goers witness it. Remy bemusedly shook hands…er, paws, with several cats, dogs, bears, and even a llama.

Another champaign flute was pressed into his hands and a warm dizzy spell the scent of burnt cinnamon had him turning to look at a tray of gold bracelets. They were beautiful as they gleamed under the light and he hummed in his throat lightly.

Logan pointed to a matching pair that was thick with big heavy links. There was a plate on the front with a space for an engraving and had a nice diamond on the corner. Ginning, Remy nodded and gestured vaguely at them.

"Could put our names on dem, ami."

The jeweler nodded and pulled those two aside while he packed up the others.

"What are your names? For the engraving."

Logan shrugged. "Logan."

The jeweler blinked at the brevity of the answer and then looked over at Remy. Grinning, Remy sketched a graceful bow.

"Remy LeBeau, at y'r service, si'l vous plait."

There was a brief bit of confused bemusement where Remy was asked to pay for it all and he pulled out a credit card. He wondered which of his alias' it was listed under for a moment before he shrugged unconcerned.

He filled out the form for engraving as Logan and Remy LeBeau.

It all made sense in this surreal dream world and he sipped his drink some more. The world seemed to be painted in watercolor as everything ran together in a blurry and soft sort of way. Burnt cinnamon surrounded him and he was warm and slightly dizzy. Everything was okay and soft and he just couldn't worry about a thing.

There was a flurry of activity in a side room and he swayed on his feet as sparkles drifted past his eyes. Then he and Logan were ushered into the side room by the cat and a string of laughing and dancing animals followed in their wake.

Elvis stood up in front of them in a sparkling rhinestone jumpsuit. He talked loudly in a profound voice in-between bits of song and music. Bright flashes of lights blinded Remy in turns as someone took pictures and he grinned at it all.

Elvis asked him if he was willing to take Logan as his husband and he shrugged. He'd never had a husband before and hadn't thought he'd wanted one…but if he had to have one, Logan was a good enough choice, he supposed.

"Oui, Remy take him. Er…mean, I do."

"And do you Logan, take this man, Remy LeBeau, as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Logan, his eyes wide with dreamy contentment, nodded and shrugged as his mouth curled up in a small smile.

"Sure. Why the hell not."

Elvis gave a sneer and a hip wiggle as he reached up to adjust his collar with a flick of his wrists, said, "Then by the power invested in me by the State of Nevada, I pronounce you husband and husband."

Another flashy dance move, this time with a twirl.

"You may now kiss."

Remy was staring down in bemusement at the gold bracelet on his wrist that read Remy LeBeau in fancy script when both of Logan's big hands reached up and grabbed him by his duster's lapels. He was then dragged down into a rough kiss.

Unexpected, but nice.

So, with burnt cinnamon swirling in his nose and a warm dizziness pressing on his mind, Remy relaxed into the kiss and enjoyed it. The crowd of animals whooped and hollered in delight in the background.

* * *

Martinique sighed with relief as she sat down in her seat and waited for her flight to get underway. Reaching over, she pulled the shade down on her window and turned off her overhead light. Then, buckling herself in, she tilted her seat back and tried to relax.

Her head was pounding.

The illusion she'd created for Gambit and Wolverine was a simple enough one and it would've been easy enough to hold on a pair of flatscans. With those two it had been a whole lot harder.

Wolverine's enhanced scenes were extremely difficult to fool simply because she didn't experience the world the same way he did. That made it hard to craft the illusion to him and make it believable. It was even more challenging to keep his temper tamed down.

You could never tell how ferals would react to things. They either slid into acceptance easy or they fought it all the way.

Then there was Gambit. He was easier to fool with her illusions, but she ended up battling his psi-shields all night. Those damn oscillating shields had been biting and nipping at her mind any time her attention wavered in the slightest.

Not only that, once she had been inside his head she had briefly touched something that was so black, cold, and soulless that she'd nearly lost all control of her illusions. Mentally shuddering, she had slowly backed away from the deeply buried persona hidden in Gambit's mind and was careful to avoid it from then on.

Not an easy task while fighting his shields and it had left her with a screaming headache. She felt like her eyes were throbbing from the pain.

But she'd done it. And she'd gotten away with it.

* * *

Moaning at the pain in his skull, Remy brought a hand up and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. God, he hurt.

His head was aching with a hangover as if he'd drunk way too much and his psi-shields felt battered. Shifting slightly let him know that wasn't the only thing aching. His body felt like he'd had a rough workout or a good fight. Sore muscles were interspersed with what felt like scratches and bite marks.

To top it all off, his backside felt as if it had been plowed for hours by a very well endowed man.

What the hell had he done last night?

Cracking open one eye, he turned his head to face his bed partner and groaned again.

Apparently, what he'd done last night included having sex with Logan. He'd never wanted that to happen.

Not that Remy had anything against male lovers, he didn't. And it wasn't that the man wasn't sexy, he was. It was more that he and Logan had taken a long time to even become friends, let alone anything else. He had the older man's respect and trust, and that was far more important than a simple roll in the sack.

Damn!

"Stop fidgetin' darlin' an' let me sleep."

Logan's voice was a rumbling grumble of tired grumpiness. Joy.

"Je suis desole, Logan." He muttered.

There was a long tense pause and then one big blue eye opened to stare in confusion at Remy.

"The hell?"

Then he groaned and lifted a hand to his head for a moment and snarled.

"My psi-shields are a mess, kid. How 'bout yours?"

Remy snorted.

"Gambit's hung over, got battered shields, is bruised all over and…" he paused and slid a sideways look at the other man, "he don't know how well he gonna be able t' walk t'day."

Logan frowned in mild confusion and concern.

"Ya hurt or something?"

Remy blushed. He couldn't believe that he was still capable of doing so, but there you go.

"Ah…not hurt, exactly." He hedged. "Wha' y' remember 'bout last night?"

Logan's eyes unfocused as his frown deepened. Remy held still and waited for the other man's memories to catch up with them. Then, Logan slowly turned his head to look at the gold bracelet on his wrist with the name Logan LeBeau engraved onto it.

A look of shamed horror washed over his features and with a yell, Logan leapt out of the bed. He dashed over to the small side table and found a bunch of papers. He flipped through it until he found what he was looking for and held it up.

It was a marriage certificate for Logan and Remy LeBeau.

"That evil fucking bitch!" Logan growled. "She messed with our heads an' had us married off!"

Remy nodded.

"By an Elvis impersonator, oui."

Logan growled at him and then riffled through the papers until he found an envelop full of pictures. He grimaced at the image of him and Remy kissing in front of Elvis with a room full of people dressed up like animals. He shoved the pictures back in the envelop and tossed it on the table with the marriage certificate.

"I can't believe I finally end up married an' it's ta ya. Ya aren't exactly my idea o' the perfect wife."

"Hey," Remy scowled. "I ain't de wife! Y' de wife, Logan. Y' de one done took my name Monsieur Logan LeBeau."

Logan growled at him and stalked over to the bed. Remy went to move, but then flinched and stilled. Logan froze in place, a wash of guilt flashing over his face before he sighed and shook his head.

"The marriage is one thing. Embarrassing, yeah…but something easy enough ta undo. But then we came back up here an' I…" a pained look twisted his face, "…hurt ya."

Remy sighed and rolled his eyes even as he carefully shifted so he was sitting up. Or at least leaning up on one hip in a reasonable facsimile.

"Non, don't get all martyred on m'. Y' didn't do anyt'ing dat Remy didn't want…didn't beg y' t' do."

He chuckled ruefully.

"B'sides…not like y' deflowered an innocent virgin here, Logan. Gambit knows f' a fact dat he gave as good as he got. It's just he don't have a healing factor, oui?"

Logan's eyes unfocused and he blushed lightly as he obviously remembered a bit more about last night. Finally, he sighed and nodded.

"Fair enough."

Sighing, Remy pushed himself up out of the bed and carefully stretched his tight and slightly abused muscles. He definitely needed a shower…and perhaps a soak in the tub.

"Look, way Gambit sees it, we got two choices. One, we can call Jubilee an' tell her we lost de trail an' den get dis marriage annulled. Or two, we can figure out where Martinique ran off t' an' thank her personally f' arrangin' our weddin'."

Logan flashed a smile that was all fangs and smoldering eyes.

"Oh…I wanna thank her in person."

His claws slashed out before slowly retracting back into his arms.

Remy nodded.

"D'Accord."

Then he slowly limped to the bathroom.

"Gonna shower, me. Y' order up some breakfast from room service, eh husband?"

* * *

Remy got the bathroom door shut before whatever Logan flung at him hit it.

Remy took a quick shower just to get clean. Then he filled the tub with hot water and soaked for about half an hour. That did wonders for his strained muscles and ravaged ass.

Of course, relaxing his body just allowed his mind to relax and wander as well. And it wanted to wander back to last night. He was completely ashamed of himself and would kick his own ass if it didn't already throb in the shape of Logan's penis.

He prided himself on being able to keep telepaths out of his head. That was one of his more irritating and confusing character traits according to both Jean Grey and Charles Xavier. And if Remy could keep them out…he should be able to keep anyone out.

Yet Martinique Jason had damaged his shields painfully and then twisted his mind around a neat little fantasy world. And he'd cheerfully gone along with it…thinking it was some strange dream. He was ashamed at his weakness…and a bit afraid it would happen again.

He didn't like telepaths. And he had real reasons for that; Sinister and the Shadow King both being high on that list.

So…how did she do it? Was it because she'd wrapped her telepathic commands inside of an illusion? Was it the champaign he kept swilling down?

Then there was the whole mess with Logan.

He didn't know who would kill him first for getting married to the man; Bella, Rogue, or le Wolverine himself. Although, if he was being truthful and willing to admit it, it wasn't the marriage itself that bothered him. That was just one of Martinique's headgames and easy enough to undo, if a bit embarrassing.

No…it was what had come afterwards.

He and Logan had had sex.

Great sex. Sweaty athletic sex. Violent and primal sex filled with domination and pain and blood. The kind of sex that makes a man find god while seeped in darkest sin as he prays that it never ever ends.

And he'd found that with Logan.

The Wolverine.

"Merde…"

Remy reached up and scratched at the heavy stubble along his jaw.

"Now how de hell I's supposed t' look him in de eyes again?"

Finally he decided that he had hid in the bathroom as long as he could get away with. Sighing, he got out of the tub, dried off and got dressed.

Then he went to switch places with Logan.

There was a brief moment when he was walking into the main bedroom and Logan was walking into the bathroom when Remy's eyes wandered up his new husband's body. He took in those acres of muscle and all that hairy skin and he remembered running his fingertips along those shoulders as Logan held him down, pressed tightly to the bed before leaning forward and nipping his sharp teeth all along Remy's ribcage.

It was a powerful memory; one filled with touch and sound and scent. A wave of arousal washed over Remy and his cock twitched in his pants.

Logan paused on his way through the doorway and turned to glance over at him, his nose twitching. Then the big bastard smirked before turning and walking on through.

"Merde…"

A soft chuckle behind the closed door was his only answer until the shower came on.

As the older man showered, Remy sat down at the small side table and devoured a plate full of hot and filling room service food. While there, he glanced through the paperwork on their marriage and realized at once that it was legitimate and legal.

If word of this ever got out, he was sure that Cyclops, Bobby and l'Ange would laugh themselves silly at the thought of the womanizing Cajun finding himself a husband. Especially since his husband was the biggest butchest badass around. The pictures with them kissing in front of Elvis and the Furries would only make it funnier for the team.

With a sigh, he tucked everything away again.

Once his stomach was filled, Remy did a bit of stretching just to make sure his muscles wouldn't lock up on him during a fight. If he had an injury to protect, he needed to know ahead of time so he could adjust his fighting style. Thankfully, the soak had done a lot of good and loosened up his previously tight muscles. He was still a bit sore, but nothing that would hinder him if the shit hit the fan.

Then it was time to hunt.

Logan was done in the bathroom and dressed, so they packed up their stuff, including all the paperwork for their unexpected marriage and left the hotel room. They both had contacts in the city and they planned to spend a bit of time chasing them down.

First they headed off to a strip club to see Echo.

"So," Remy asked as he pulled his motorcycle to a stop next to Logan's. "Who's dis Echo person, heh?"

Logan grunted and shut off his bike. Remy followed suit.

"Let's just say Echo's an old protégé of mine."

Remy nodded.

"Let m' guess, oui? She a femme, she's pretty, an' y' taught her t' fight?"

Logan lifted an eyebrow at him, but didn't argue. Remy grinned smugly and shrugged.

"Wha' can I say? Y' predictable ol' man, an' Gambit knows his husband."

Logan growled lightly at him.

"Quit it with the husband shit, Gumbo."

Remy's red eyes twinkled with mischief. He didn't want word of their marriage to get out either, but it was fun to tweak Wolverine's nose once in awhile.

"So…Gambit shouldn't be spreadin' de good news t' y' old student, den?"

Logan rolled his eyes and swung his leg off his bike.

"Echo's deaf, Cajun. But don't think that means she ain't dangerous. She learns fightin' moves faster than anyone I ever met before an' she never forgets a thing."

Remy chuckled and followed Logan into the club. Half naked women were dancing up on the stage even at this time of the day and the air was thick with smoke. Logan nodded towards a pretty Native American woman in a shadowy corner. Gambit peered over his glasses at her and then hissed. Logan looked up at him in confusion.

"Y' taken m' t' see t' Kingpin's adopted daughter? Are y' mad?"

His accent thickened up with irritation.

"What?"

Remy rolled his eyes behind his shades.

"Dat's Maya Crazy-Horse Fisk, de Kingpin's daughter. Met her a few times when we both just pups an' our pere's be doin' business toget'er."

"Huh…" Logan tilted his head. "Wonder why she tried ta kill him, then?"

Logan shook his head and gave Remy a gentle shove in her direction.

"She ain't workin' for the Kingpin, so quit your bellyachin'. She's done work for the Avengers in the past an' she's on current assignment with Moon Knight…I think."

"…great…tres bon…" Remy muttered under his breath.

Still, he followed Logan over to the table and she nodded in silent hello to him. It was a…surprisingly calm meeting since the last time they'd met she's threatened to have him thrashed because he pushed her into a fountain on her father's estate. He'd only been twelve at the time…so maybe she'd forgiven him.

Still, just to be on the safe side, he stayed out of their conversation and just looked around the club for a while. Echo didn't react negatively to him, but the whole time they were there Remy had trouble keeping his head in the game. He would glance at Echo and remember his childhood in the Guild. Or he'd glance over at Logan and a memory of their wedding night would play back in his head.

Like the moment right before Logan spilled into his mouth. Remy had been on his knees, sucking on that deliciously thick cock like he couldn't get enough. Logan's strong hands had fisted themselves in his hair, pulling almost painfully before the older man thrust deep down his throat and pulsed out jets of hot semen. And Remy had swallowed it all.

Logan broke off the conversation and just growled softly at him before he reached up to smack the back of his head.

"Pay attention, Gumbo."

Remy bared his teeth at the man with a hiss and then slumped back and rolled his eyes, but he'd managed to focus on the conversation again instead of the images flitting through his mind.

It seems that Maya didn't know Martinique was in town at all, but she'd heard that her contractor, Donald Pierce, had set up a Reavers' base for himself on the west coast.

After they left Maya and her club behind, Remy took Logan to a man he knew so he could hack a few computer systems. Martin Trousseau was a member of the Las Vegas Thieves Guild. Remy'd used his services before when looking for information. He was short, weedy, and purely human, but he was a first class hacker and knew the ins and outs of all the most common and even the least common systems.

Martin had waved Remy in with a grin until he spied a look at Logan. Then he stiffened up and shifted to place Remy directly between them before he curled in on himself a little bit.

"So…who's your enforcer? He one of them assassin boys from the bayou?"

Logan had grinned a mouth full of fangs and flexed his muscles, clearly enjoying scaring the hacker. Martin whimpered softly at the display and shifted back just a touch

"Ain't no assassin, boy." He jerked a thumb at Remy. "I'm this one's husband."

Martin's eyes went comically wide behind his glasses and he paled a little. Remy just reached up with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Merde…"

He was saying that a lot, lately. Logan just looked smug. He was getting far too much enjoyment outta this.

"Ah…uh…um, okay." Martin stuttered helplessly.

Then he offered up a shaky grin at Remy.

"Oh, um…congratulations." Then his smile firmed up even though he continued to eye Logan nervously. "You always did like the dangerous ones, huh?"

Remy rolled his eyes.

"Merci beaucoup. An' dat's 'cause Gambit's obviously warped in de head."

Logan chuckled.

"I'd be insulted if I didn't agree with ya darlin'."

Remy looked up and beseeched the ceiling.

"Oh mon Dieu…Remy's been a good boy lately. Why y' do dis t' po' Remy for?"

Logan and Martin both snorted in amusement…even if for different reasons.

"Look, let's jus' get down t' bus'ness, oui?"

Logan grinned, but Martin straightened up and shifted over to his computer. It was a mass of tangled wires, multiple drives, monitors and servers. He sat down in front of one of three keyboards.

"Okay…what'cha got for me?"

Remy gave him all the information they had on Martinique and then stood back to watch the man work. Remy himself was a good hacker. Trained by the Guild and skilled to the level of Master Thief, it was impossible not to be good at it. But this was Martin's specialty and he cracked open protected systems the way Gambit could crack a building's security…with easy grace and a deep felt joy.

It didn't take long for Martin to have the information they needed and for Gambit to lighten his load one big glittering gemstone.

Martinique had skipped town and fled to L.A.

* * *

Remy rode his motorcycle alongside of Logan's as they sped down I-15 across the great expanse of desert.

Normally, Remy liked riding with Logan. This wasn't one of those times.

It was hotter than the inside of an oven. Dust choked the air, filling his lungs, coating his skin, everything he wore, and his bike as well. The sun beat down on them, baking their skin, heating the wind, and burned into his eyes. The scenery was barren, desolate, stark. Dead.

Oh, and it was hot. Did he mention it was hot? Because it was. Hot, that is.

Forget marrying him off to Logan. He could forgive that just for the great night of sex it'd gotten him. He was going to kick Martinique's ass just for making him ride through the Mojave Desert from Las Vegas to Los Angeles.

People would probably be surprised that he didn't like it, southern boy like him.

It was true, though. The Louisiana bayou was filled with water, unlike this scorched hell he was riding through. New Orleans was practically overflowing with rivers and creeks and swamp lands. Fish and birds and flowering plants flourished everywhere while the throngs of people enjoyed great music, great food, and great bourbon.

And yeah, it was hot…but it was the kind of heat that made you want to melt into the world and become a part of it.

The desert was nothing but rock and sand and lonely emptiness. It didn't fill you up with its warmth; instead it hollowed you out and burned you up from the inside out.

Of course, he'd learned how to ignore all that crap when he'd lived in Arizona with Old Crow long before he'd ruined the guy's life by introducing him to Sinister and convincing him to join the Marauders. But that was then and this was now.

Part of the reason he hated the desert was because of those memories. He could recall how Old Crow used to be and compare him to the homicidal lunatic called Scalphunter that he'd become under Sinister's thumb. Guilt, thy name is Remy LeBeau.

Another part of the reason it was bothering him today in particular, was because the wide open spaces and lack of traffic gave him too much time to think. It was never a good idea to let him sink into his own mind, but today was playing merry hell on him since he kept trying to replay his memories of last night.

His wedding night.

To Logan.

The sun glinting brilliantly off the bracelet on Logan's wrist pulled his mind back to the ceremony itself. Even in his memory, it felt like moving through a watercolor painting with soft blurry edges and muted colors. Still, he could remember snapping it onto Logan's wrist just before the one he wore was snapped onto his own by the older man.

But why was Logan still wearing it?

Remy knew why he himself was. He'd wear it until the marriage was annulled or they got divorced no matter that they were tricked into it. He was old fashioned that way. And even after he no longer wore it, he'd still keep it.

Just like he still had his wedding ring from when he married Bella. And like he still had the necklace Rogue had given him when they first seriously got back together after all that mess with his secrets coming out in Antarctica and her romance with Joseph. He and Bella were divorced and he and Rogue had finally come to the conclusion that they were better partners then lovers…even if they really did love each other.

So…after this whole mess was over and done with, Remy would take off the marriage bracelet and very carefully store it away with all his other most precious treasures.

But why did Logan still have his on?

It was something to ponder about, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to ask. He preferred Logan's claws on the outside of his guts after all and as hot as it was in this wasteland he wasn't volunteering to be ventilated.

Then between one eye blink and the next, a spot on the horizon separated itself from the landscape as a building and not another heat blasted rock. Their bikes thundered down the asphalt through heat shimmers and left mini dust storms swirled in their wake as they sped closer and closer. The building grew bigger and eventually resolved itself into a roadside gas station.

Remy glanced down at his fuel gauge and then glanced over at Logan. The older man was looking at him with an eyebrow raised in question. Remy simply nodded. Best top off the tanks while they had the chance.

Distances in the desert were deceiving. It seemed like they were speeding along forever and never getting closer when suddenly they were there and swerving off the road into the dust choked lot. Downshifting, they glided over to the pumps before pulling to a stop and letting the bikes idle. Finally, Remy turned off his bike and kicked down the center stand.

He swung his leg up and over and stood there for a moment stretching out his back. Then he got a good look at his bike. It was coated in a thick layer of dust and sand. He hissed.

"Gambit hate de desert, ami."

Logan snorted and turned to the pump to start the rig up even as he twisted the cap off his tank with his other hand.

"That so?"

Remy nodded even as he bent slightly to look over his engine.

"Oui."

He waved a hand in an elegant gesture towards the big machine.

"Look at Remy's po' baby. She all coated in dat nasty sand an' grit. Cloggin' her all up wit' dat stuff an' getting' in her gears."

Logan let out a little amused huff, but Remy saw him eyeing up his own bike closely. Remy knew that Logan was just as obsessed with his own bike as Remy was with his.

"Don't worry, Cajun. After this mess is all over we'll pull 'em both apart an' give 'em a little TLC."

Remy nodded absently even as he ran a hand along the tank and cooed softly at his bike.

Logan rolled his eyes and reached out to gently shove his shoulder.

"Go inside an' pay for the gas, Rem."

Remy looked up, one eyebrow arched up over the rim of his shades.

"An' get me a smoke an' some beer while you're at it."

Logan smirked up at his sardonic expression and lifted his arm to shake the bracelet on his wrist at Remy.

"Go on…be a good husband an' pay for my gas an' beer."

Remy snorted and rolled his eyes, but he took a step back and gave a sloppy salute before he turned and sauntered up to the ramshackle looking building baking in the heat. Figures Logan would realize that he's just old fashioned enough to take this whole husband stuff seriously. All the better to toy with him.

At least he could comfort himself that Logan wouldn't be nearly as ruthless as Bella nor as high maintenance as Rogue. If all the man wanted was to be supplied with gas, beer, and cigars…Remy'd call that an easy going relationship.

Stepping inside, Remy was awash in soft dim light that was soothing to his sensitive eyes even if it wasn't really any cooler than outside. An old man that was a thin bundle of wiry flesh under wrinkled sun baked skin was lounged in a beat up old chair. The old man eyed him up and down for a long moment then nodded once silently.

Remy nodded back and then glanced over the small store area. It didn't have much, but there was a refrigerated section in the back. He sauntered down the aisle of chips, beef jerky and various types of gum and candy.

At the small cooler, he peered through and saw bottled water, Gatorade, Pepsi and beer. He opened it and grabbed a six pack of Bud and turned back down the aisle. He grabbed up a pack of jerky and a pack of gum and shuffled up to the counter by the man. He put his stuff down and looked around.

He pulled two cigars out of a display case and nodded up to the cigarette rack.

"Pack a Marlboro's an' two tanks out front as well, homme."

The old man just looked at him for a moment and then he pushed himself up slowly. He glanced outside the dusty window and Remy turned to look too. Logan was out there by the bikes. The pump was now filling Remy's tank with Logan watching over it.

The old man turned away and grabbed up a pack of smokes from the rack and tossed it on the counter with Remy's other purchases. Then he shuffled over to an old fashioned register and slowly rang everything up.

Finally everything was rung up and Remy tossed some bills on the counter.

"Eh, keep de change, homme."

Scooping up his stuff, he sauntered back out into the blinding sun and burning heat. He scowled out at the desert around them and made his way over to Logan. He handed over the two cigars and then the beef jerky.

Logan lifted an eyebrow, but just took it with a soft grunt. One cigar got tucked down into the inside of his jacket and the other got opened. He bit off the end and spit it into the dust and stuffed it into the corner of his mouth before turning off the pump and disengaging it from Remy's tank.

Remy opened the six pack and tucked two beers into his saddlebag and then tucked two into Logan's. He cracked open one and took a long cool drink. Damn…that went down nice.

As soon as Logan turned away from the pumps, he held out the last beer towards him. Logan took it, opened it, and tipped it to his lips. He drank half of it in one solid go. Then he belched loudly.

"Damn…that hits the spot."

Remy nodded and grinned.

"Sure do. Wash out all dat dust in m' t'roat."

Logan tipped back his beer and drained the rest of the can even as Remy rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Ain't right t' be draggin' a po' boy from de wetlands t'rough dis barren desert."

Logan snorted and crushed his empty beer can in one big fist before turning and throwing it into the trash bin.

"Aw…quit your bellyachin', bub. I could drag ya lengthways through Hell itself an' you'd survive ta bitch an' whine again. A little bitty tame desert like the Mojave ain't gonna hurt ya."

Remy drained his beer and then tossed it into the trash before turning a hurt look on Logan.

"Not de point, cher. Remy don't like de desert, so he gonna bitch 'bout it. An' as y' be Remy's husband, its y'r duty t' listen t' him complain."

Logan ripped open the beef jerky pack and slid a long smoked piece of meat out and pointed it at Remy.

"Don't make me knock ya out just ta shut ya up Gambit, or I'll stuff ya inta a box an' mail ya off ta Bella with a note sayin' she can have ya back."

Then Logan lifted the jerky to his mouth and bit into it with his teeth. Remy threw back his head and laughed.

"Lord, y' a mean one, Logan. T'reatenin' t' send m' off t' m' ex-wife like dat."

Grinning, he swung his leg over his bike and settled into the saddle before pulling out his cigarettes. He slid one out of the pack and chuckled.

"Gambit'd just end up killin' dat bastard Bandit an' den Bella'd put a new contract out on po' Remy's head."

Logan snorted in amusement and finished off his jerky stick and slid the rest of the pack into one of his saddlebags.

"Bandit, huh? That your wife's new flame?"

Remy shrugged and then nodded.

"Ex-wife, an' oui, dat's de idiot she hooked up wit'. Stupid fool ain't good 'nough for her, mais…"

Remy trailed off and shrugged. He didn't have a say in who she dated or who she slept with anymore. They were officially divorced even if they worked well enough together with the Guilds.

With a sigh, Remy once again tried not to wonder if his and Rogue's relationship might have gone better if she hadn't known that the only reason Remy pursued her seriously is because Bella had given the okay. A woman that he couldn't physically touch met Bella's standards for her husband's mistress. But Rogue had known…and had never been able to really get past the idea that she was forever 'the other woman' in Remy's life.

Scowling as he tried to push those thoughts away, Remy focused on the end of his smoke and it burst into flame with a small pop. It quickly settled down to a nice steady burn and he reached for his keys.

"Ahem."

He looked over to see Logan looking at him pointedly with a cigar clamped between his teeth. Remy rolled his eyes, but focused enough to put a small charge on the end of Logan's cigar. His eyes glowed like embers behind his shades just before it burst into a small flame with a soft pop and Logan's eyebrows rose up in surprise even as he puffed on his smoke. Then he rolled it to the corner of his mouth and gave Remy an arch look.

"Didn't know ya could do that without touchin' it, bub."

Remy smirked.

"Man of mystery, me."

Logan scowled and then looked away to scan the desert for a moment before he swung his leg up and over his bike to sit in the saddle.

"Can it Cajun. I thought ya needed ta touch something ta charge it."

Remy nodded and shrugged.

"Anythin' bigger 'en a cigarette or button needs t' be touched. An' Remy can't do it if'n he can't see it, anyways."

Logan stared at him for a moment and then shrugged.

"Fine. Let's get outta here. We got a long ways ta go still."

And with that, both of them started up their bikes and pulled out of the gas station in a roar of engines.

* * *

Remy was hot, tired, hungry and feeling mighty cranky.

Riding that many hours in a row would have made him want to set back and relax with a good meal followed by a good nap anyway. However, when those hours were spent trekking across the Mojave, San Bernardino Valley and then across the Mountains to the coast, it just made him grumpy and pissed off.

He wanted to chug a gallon of water to wet his insides before standing in the shower for an hour to wet his outsides.

Instead he followed Logan into the lot of a seedy, dirty, and cheap motel that looked like the home of vagrants, hookers, and other various lowlifes. Not that they didn't fit right in, because they did. He just wondered how the hell Logan found places like this no matter where in the world he happened to be.

They parked side by side and Logan turned to him and opened his mouth. Remy cut him off and pointed his finger at Logan's nose.

"Non! Y' payin' for de room. Y' want Gambit t' pay den we're goin' someplace like de Days Inn where he know de carpet's been vacuumed an' de sheets are clean." He gave out a fairly good imitation of Logan's own growl. "An' don't give m' no lip, Gambit's t' tired an' cranky t' deal wit' it."

Logan had the nerve the chuckle at him.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, bub. We'll get ya fed an' watered an' you'll be right as rain again."

Remy let out a huff even as Logan climbed off his bike and sauntered into the office. Remy kicked down the center stand on his own bike, scooted down in the saddle and leaned back against the pack tied to his saddlebags. With his feet up on the pegs, he pulled out his pack of smokes and took out a cigarette. He lit it up and inhaled deeply.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, he wondered how Jubilee and Laura were doing. He wasn't too worried about them going up against Reese. The cyborg was dangerous, yes, but both girls could kick ass with the best of them and they had Cannonball and Boom Boom with them to help.

He was more worried about their emotional state. Neither girl had had an easy time of it and sometimes they just took things badly. Not that he could blame them. He'd had his own ups and downs too, so he knew what it was like to get lost in the bad stuff. After all, as much as he liked to think of himself as an X-Man, his time with the Marauders or as Death of the Horsemen was never far from his thoughts.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to call them and check in. Make sure they were okay and find out where they were at. Although, he wasn't sure what he and Logan should tell them about their situation.

It was private.

It was embarrassing.

And god, did he want another romp in the sheets. This time he wanted to be wide awake and not drunk out of his skull or whacked out on some telepath's mind-mojo.

Another thing he wasn't ready to admit to.

On the other hand, if they didn't say anything about it and it got out, the girls would give them hell. He'd had a belly full of being yelled at for keeping secrets, lack of trust and lying by omission to last a lifetime.

He heard Logan's boots crunching on the gravel as he walked over, but Remy just kept lying across his bike and brooding.

"Wake up Rem. We got the last room on the block."

Logan nodded his head down a long line of rooms off to the left. Sighing, Remy sat up and pushed his bike off the center stand and kicked it to a roaring start. Then he flicked his cigarette butt out into the air where it exploded in a small pop.

He walked his bike backward out of the slot and then drove slowly down the line of rooms until he hit the end. He pulled in to the space in front of it and Logan's bike pulled in right next to him.

Without speaking, they both shut off their bikes, climbed off and began to untie their packs and unstrap their saddlebags. This wasn't the kind of place that you could just leave them out even if you didn't need all the stuff in them.

Then Logan unlocked the door and they walked in.

The room was as cheap and dirty looking as Remy had expected. The carpet was probably installed sometime in the early 70's and was a matted mess. There was only one bed and a small chest of drawers and a small side table with two chairs huddled against the far wall. The bathroom was cramped and more mildewy than he liked, but it would do.

Remy dropped his pack on the bed, his saddlebags on the dresser and then pealed off his duster and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. Sitting in that same chair, he bent down and began to unstrap his boots.

"Wha'cha doing?"

He glared up at Logan.

"'m gettin' in de shower, homme. Need t' scrub off a pound a sand dat got int' places sand should never ever be."

Logan barked out a harsh laugh.

"Some o' it sifted down the crack o' your ass, huh? Well that explains your bright an' cheery mood."

Remy kept glaring at Logan while he began to strip down, but he didn't deny it. Amused, Logan just peeled off his jacket and then flopped down on the bed with his hands behind his head to enjoy the view. Remy bared his teeth in a hiss and peeled off his pants and shirt. Finally naked, he stomped off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him with a muttered, "connard"

"The show was good, but the soundtrack needs some work," Logan called through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally clean and feeling semi-human again, Remy stepped naked out of the bathroom. His skin was still sort of damp and scrubbed pink. He held a towel up to rub dry his hair and could see from underneath it that Logan was once again enjoying the chance to ogle his body.

Which was kind of nice.

And he couldn't really complain since they were married and Logan had seen him naked lots of time before…usually in the X-Men's locker room and showers, but more recently during their sex-a-palooza in Vegas.

And that was the crux of his dilemma. When Logan looked at him now, Remy could almost see the thoughts about sex drifting through his mind. And that had never really happened before. He was used to lots of people thinking of him as a wild-child slut or a sticky-fingered bimbo. But not Logan.

He was used to having Logan's respect…and even his trust.

Remy wasn't sure how adding sex into the mixture was going to work out. As much as he had enjoyed the sex, and he really really enjoyed it, he wasn't willing to lose Logan's respect. That was just too important to him.

Sighing, Remy figured his hair was dry enough and flipped the towel over the edge of the bathroom door to dry. He walked past a smirking Logan and over to his pack. He untied it and reached in to riffle through it when Logan's head turned away and over to the door.

A knock sounded and Logan took a deep breath in through his nose and grinned.

"Looks like ya got outta the shower just in time, bub."

"Oh?"

Remy arched an eyebrow even as he pulled out a pair of worn and faded jeans. He quickly stepped into them as Logan pulled out his wallet and reached for the door.

"Yup. Pizza's here."

Logan opened the door to show a teen in torn jeans and a tee shirt with a pizza shop logo printed on it. He held two pizzas in one hand and a six pack of bud in the other. The kid looked at Logan, then past him to where Remy was just starting to button up his jeans, and back to Logan again. The kid smirked and handed over the pizza.

"$37.50, Mister."

Logan took the pizzas and plopped them down on the dresser, and then he handed over four tens and grabbed the beer.

"Go'wan, get outta here kid."

The kid nodded as he glanced back over at Remy and smirked even wider. Then the kid turned away and Logan shut the door. Remy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Don' dat beat all. Kid sees de two of us here an' calls y' Mister but looks at Remy like he's a trick."

Logan barked out a laugh and peeled a beer out of the six pack before setting the rest on the small table.

"Yeah well, I ain't exactly anyone's idea o' a rent boy."

Remy chuckled and reached out to grab one of the pizzas.

"Oh, dat's not true. Remy's sure he can find a whole line of folks dat'd pay good money for de chance t' have y' put 'em over y' knee an' spank dere naked ass, homme."

Logan stilled in the act of reaching for the other pizza. Then, very slowly he looked over his shoulder at Remy.

"You one o' 'em?"

Remy snorted and shook his head.

"Pain ain't one of m' kinks, cher. An' Remy knows just how hard y' can hit."

Logan dropped the pizza box on the table and sat down across from Remy. Opening it up, he took out a slice. Remy grinned, his eyes sparkling.

"Lordy…two whole pizzas an' not a single veggie 'tween 'em. Stormy'd have a fit."

Logan rolled his eyes and pointed at Remy with the half eaten slice in his hand.

"Pizza should be covered in pepperoni, sausage, an' ham. Not peppers, onions, an' mushrooms. I don't care what the woman says ta the contrary."

They ate in silence for a while since they were both starving. Finally, when it was just down to a few last slices and a single beer left each, Logan cocked an assessing eye at Remy and just stared for a moment.

"Quoi?"

Logan shrugged, looked away a second, and then looked back.

"So…if pain ain't one o' your kinks, what is?"

Remy stilled for a second and then finished his movement. Apparently, they were going to have this conversation even though he really didn't want to. Still, they were married and it made sense in a way that Logan would want to know.

"Eh…more into dominance games, me. Remy's a switch, so he'll fight y' for it. Plus, if'n y' ever learnt any of dat Kinbaku Shibari when y' was in Japan, he'll let y' practice it on him."

Logan blinked twice even as his pupils dilated rapidly.

"Rope bondage, huh?"

His voice was rough, so he opened up his last beer and took a big drink. Remy just grinned at him.

"Oui."

Remy let his eyes unfocus in a combination of thought and memory even as he felt his cheeks heat up a bit.

"If…If it done right, den Remy can't get outta it. No lock t' pick. No system t' beat. Just…gotta submit."

Then he shook his head lightly and shrugged.

"Can always just free m'self wit' de charge, mais…dat's cheatin'."

He offered up a lopsided grin that didn't really hide the shadow of sadness deep in his eyes.

"Don' know many people dat are skilled enough t' tame Remy dat Remy actually trusts enough t' try."

Logan's eyes cleared up and focused on him at that last confession and then he nodded in understanding. Trust. That's when the games of domination stopped being games. And since Remy had already offered to do it; that meant that trust was there between them.

Logan's eyes softened a bit. He looked down at the remains of his pizza for a moment and then looked back up at Remy.

"I'll put in an order for some asanawa an' the next time we're in a secure place an' have some down time, I'll tie ya up inta a complicated knot an' let ya drift in subspace for a while."

Logan rolled his eyes playfully.

"It'd probably do ya some good, darlin'."

Remy chuckled softly and nodded. Then he finished off his beer and belched.

"Just make sure de rope be jute. Hemp itches m'."

Logan snorted.

"Fine. Jute nawa it is."

They grinned at each other for a long moment, the tension between them a sexual thing that pulsed and rolled. He wanted nothing more than to drag Logan into that big bed behind them and let himself get lost in the pleasure of the older man's body.

But they were in the middle of an op. There were things to do and plans to make. Getting lost in his own sexuality wouldn't get things done.

He sighed and shook his head to break the connection building between them.

"Eh…" He reached up to scratch his chin. "Nice as all dat would be…"

He shrugged apologetically as Logan groaned and then shifted back into a more professional mindset.

"Think we should call de girls? Maybe tell 'em where we be an' find out if'n dey caught de cyborg Reese?"

Logan sighed.

"Yeah, probably. We also need to figure out where Martinique's at. Or where she's headed."

Remy nodded and tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Gettin' late an' Remy don't have his laptop. If'n de girls have access t' a computer an' wanna try findin' her, dat's fine. If not, den tomorrow mornin' Remy can go t' de University an' use dere system t' locate her."

Logan just looked at him a moment before crossing his arms.

"And if the bitch's already delivered the power source ta Pierce?"

Remy shrugged carelessly.

"Den Remy sneaks in an' steals it back. After dat, it's up t' y' if'n we pull de place down around his head."

Logan nodded and shrugged. He'd never had a problem with tearing down enemy bases.

"Fair enough."

Remy pushed away from the table and stuffed his feet into this boots.

"Gonna have m' one last smoke, den Remy brush his teeth an' hit de sack. Was one hellava long day, homme."

Logan snorted.

"Understatement o' the year there, bub."

Standing up, Remy grabbed his pack of cigarettes and slid one out.

"Ya go have your smoke, Gumbo. I'm gonna call Jubes an' see what's up with the girls."

"D'Accord, Logan."

* * *

"Have you managed to shake Wolverine and Gambit?"

Martinique frowned at the tone of voice coming across the telephone, but quickly smoothed out her expression so that no hint of her distaste for her employer would be heard in her voice.

"Yes. I left them floundering behind in Vegas." She chuckled darkly. "Actually, I left them locked in an illusion and stumbling into an elevator while clinging to each other."

There was a pause and she could practically feel the antipathy radiating through time and space towards her from her employer.

"For all our sakes, I hope you are correct. I have had dealings with Wolverine in the past. He…is not a pleasant man."

Martinique nearly choked at that understatement. Wolverine was about the exact opposite of pleasant, in her mind.

"I have no doubt that he and that Cajun thief trailing behind him like a puppy are rushing about Vegas in a panic by now."

"Hmmm…" was her employer's less then supportive reply.

"I'll be expecting you to arrive with the device tomorrow. Don't be late."

Martinique's frown came back tenfold when the dial tone began to hum in her ear.

* * *

Remy drifted up out of sleep when Logan stepped out of the bathroom. The scent of cheap soap clung to the man as it swirled out into the main room in a cloud of steam. Remy didn't open his eyes, he just listened as Logan hung up his towel over the door.

There was a brief pause, one weighted with tension and then Logan lifted up the edge of the sheet and slid into the bed next to him. The mattress dipped greatly at his weight and Remy debated with himself over the wisdom of just giving into the situation.

Then with a sigh, he rolled over and plastered himself against Logan's side, his one knee bending slightly so that he could hook the leg over Logan's. His head found a spot to rest on Logan's broad shoulder and he wiggled slightly to get comfortable.

Logan held very still for a long moment and then seemed to melt into the embrace and relaxed with a sigh.

"Go back ta sleep, Rem."

Remy nodded slightly and draped an arm across Logan's chest.

"Oui, Logan."

Silence settled between them, but it was a relaxed and sleepy kind of silence. Comfortable.

Just before he drifted back into sleep, Remy murmured softly, "When dis over we go back t' Vegas. Remy never got t' play any cards dis last time…"

Logan chuckled softly.

"Sure, Rem."

* * *

Remy frowned as he swerved through traffic easily with only the merest of his attention devoted to the road around him. Instead, his mind was still back in that seedy motel room where he'd left Logan meditating

It wasn't right that two men should be thrown all off-kilter just because they started their day with slow sleepy sex before they even rose out of bed. Especially if that sex was with their legally wedded spouse, and yet…a sort of confused tenseness had risen between he and Logan as the afterglow began to fade and full awareness set in.

They were partners. In many ways, they were each other's best friend. Occasionally, they were even rivals.

And now, without their consent, they were married. And oddly enough, it was the sex that was throwing everything off.

He didn't mind being tied to Logan the rest of his life. He didn't mind sharing his name, nor his wealth, nor his trust.

His bed, however…that was a little bit more tricky.

Some of the issues were his. He knew that. His past wasn't pretty and it'd caused an extreme amount of trouble on the team. Hustler. Whore. Slut. Bimbo. He'd heard it all more than once and from more than one mouth.

He had always known who hadn't held his past against him and who tossed it into his teeth. Logan was prominent on the former list and he couldn't help but worry if this would be the final straw that broke the back of that particular camel.

Some of the issues were Logan's. He knew that as well. Only, he wasn't exactly sure what it was about this mess that was pushing Logan's buttons. Logan could be a mystery, so he knew that unless the older man actually opened his mouth and talked about what was eating him, Remy'd never figure it out.

Yet, it had felt so right to wake up hard and yearning next to Logan. To feel the heat pouring off of his skin and the strength of his body as he pulled Remy tighter against him. Sloppy nibbles along stubble covered necks and cheeks, sweat mixing with sweat, panting breaths and quiet moans.

Losing himself in the deepening affection, the physical and emotional warmth, the rising passion, and the endless hungry need under it all. Willingly tumbling over the edge with gentle pulses of raw pleasure, shuddering helplessly and knowing it was safe to fall.

It had been beautiful.

Then it had been awkward as realization set in and their minds fully awoke to reality. They had both made a show of casualness, of being unaffected and everything being the same. But it wasn't.

They'd had sex.

No…they'd made love.

And there was no illusion casting telepath or champaign to blame it on this time.

Logan had gone off to get breakfast and Remy had gotten in the shower. He'd carefully washed his hair and then shaved. Later, he'd dressed in his nicest jeans and his only remaining clean tee shirt. Deliberately leaving his leather duster behind, Remy'd smiled brightly and winked as he'd ducked out of their room, but it had all been an act.

He's fairly sure that Logan knows that. That he could smell Remy's awkward nerves, but there's not much he could do about that. Hopefully, a little time and space so that those memories aren't so immediate would help.

With a sigh, Remy pulled his bike into a student lot and put down the center stand. Turning off his bike, he sighed and looked around before climbing off. He adjusted his sunglasses and started walking across the campus.

He figured his best bet was to find a student store of some kind. He needed to blend in a little better. He wasn't that much older physically then some of the seniors or the graduate students, but he definitely came across as older. Older, experienced, and very dangerous.

He couldn't really help that. He'd seen too much, done too much, and survived too much horror to ever seem an innocent school boy again. Even if those school boys spent more time drinking then they did studying. He had a presence, or vibe as the Californians would say; one that either drew in people that liked to play with fire, or frightened and repelled those who did not.

And since the first rule of the con was to make your marks see only what you want them to see, he needed a disguise.

Finally coming across the campus bookstore, Remy opened the door and wandered in. He headed to the rack of zippered sweatshirts with the University's logo on it. Like a wolf slipping on a sheep's skin to blend with the flock, it would change his battle-hardened physique into the muscles of a thickheaded jock.

After that, he'd gone over to the bookshelves and found a battered used copy of some history text. Then he'd grabbed up a spiral notebook and a pen with the UCLA's logo on it as well. Walking over to the counter, he gently placed his camouflage and props on it and smiled at the girl standing behind the register.

She rang up the sweatshirt without blinking, but paused as she came to the book and looked up at him sideways.

"This late in the season? Seriously?"

Remy rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and pulled up his best Southern California accent. He offered her up a sheepish grin that he knew made him look younger and reached up with one hand to scratch his cheek.

"Um…see, there was this…uh, incident over the weekend. It was so totally not my fault. I swear. It involved a spilled glass of beer, a dropped slice of pizza and my ex-best friend who shall now be known only as; The Roommate."

The girl giggled as she rang up the book, notebook, and pen as well.

"Uh-huh."

She started to tuck his stuff into a plastic bag even as she grinned at him.

"You should really find a way to make your, uh…roommate pay."

Remy pulled out his billfold and stripped off several twenties and held them up for her to see.

"Oh, don't worry. He is."

She giggled again as she made his change for him. He tucked it and his billfold back in his jeans. With a last smile at her, he turned and walked out of the store.

Once out of her sight, he pulled the sweatshirt out of the bag. After checking it for tags, he pulled it on and zipped it halfway up. Then he tucked the pen into the metal spiral of the notebook and carried it and the history text across the campus. No longer standing out, he headed towards the computer building as just another student.

Getting into the actual computer lab was ridiculously easy. He just trailed along behind a group of students, nodded absentmindedly to the monitor and sat down at a machine in one of the rows. Setting the text next to him, he booted up the system and then flipped open the notebook and set it aside.

Once everything was up and running, he began to search for Martinique. He knew her alias and financial information because Martin Trousseau had found it for him in Vegas. Now it was just a matter of finding out where she was spending money out of those accounts. Remy might not be as good as Martin at hacking, but he was easily on par with Kitty Pryde and it wasn't long until he found what he was looking for.

"Got y', y' bitch." He murmured softly.

She had rented a room at the Marriott and also a car. He carefully wrote down the info on both her room and her ride. Then he shut down his search and carefully erased all traces of his presence in the system and logged out. Grabbing his books, he turned to leave.

He and Logan had plans to make and a psychotic telepath to catch.

* * *

Remy couldn't help but smirk at the fact that no one even blinked to see the two of them riding side by side on matching Harley's down a major thoroughfare in full battle armor. Especially since Logan's armor included a face mask and his included visible weapons and packs for his tools.

Apparently, L.A. was just as jaded and cynical as New York.

They turned the corner and headed straight for the Marriott. It was a fairly big building, modern, and with no real security to speak of. It was a place for tourists and businessmen though, so they couldn't exactly walk into the lobby dressed this way. Someone would end up calling the cops or with their luck; the Avengers.

Remy wouldn't blame them much neither. Super-powered battles tended to be really hard on the furniture. Not to mention the actual superstructure of the building and the people inside it.

=Gambit,= Logan's voice was scratchy over the communicator and nearly drowned out by the sound of the bikes and the wind. =Head around ta the side an' climb up the building ta peer in her windows.=

Remy chuckled.

=Gambit's a t'ief, mon ami. Not a peepin' tom.=

=Can it, Cajun. I want ya ta see if our bird's still in the nest or if she's flown the coup. I'll head down ta the parking garage an' see if I can spot that rental o' hers.=

Remy rolled his eyes and wished he was wearing his shades in all this bright California sunshine. Finally he nodded.

=Oui, cher. Gambit gonna play de peepin' tom for y'. Don' fret.=

When they got to the building, Logan headed straight for the sign that read 'PARKING' and Remy turned down a small side alley most likely meant for delivery trunks to get to the back. He slowed to a stop and glanced up at the building's façade while counting windows and matching them up to the floor plans he'd quickly memorized.

There! That was the one. And it would be easy enough to get to.

He pulled his bike further into the alley and turned it around. He parked it tucked behind a dumpster so that it wouldn't be visible by anyone walking down the street that might peer into the alley. He took a moment to pull out climbing straps for his hands. They were straps that he could wear almost like gloves, only there were metal claws that sat across his palm that he could use to grip the building's stonework.

Finding the perfect spot to start, Remy reached up and felt the claws on the climbing straps bite into the brick. Grinning, he braced his feet and pulled himself up. Then he set the strap on the other hand against the brick, and then he did it again, and again, and again.

Soon enough, he was clinging to the wall next to the window. Pausing there, he turned all of his senses to the room, letting his hearing, his spatial sense of the kinetic and his charm wash over the area; testing and seeking.

Nothing.

Frowning, he leaned to the side and peeked in. The room was empty, the bed unmade and the closet door opened. Nothing was there.

He was just about to start working on the window's lock so he could investigate closer when the door leading to the hallway opened. He pulled back a bit and watched as a cleaning cart was pushed through the door by a bored looking woman in a gray maid's uniform.

Sighing, Remy began to work his way back down the wall. They'd obviously missed her. He wondered by how much. When he got to about the second floor, Logan's voice came through the communicator.

=Gambit! Get out here quick! I'm following her out o' the garage now. She must've already checked out. She's got the case!=

=Merde! Fine, be dere un moment.=

Glancing down and quickly judging both distance and angle, Remy pushed off of the wall into the air and a perfect back flip. He tucked his feet under him and hit the building across the alley like a springboard. This time he did a perfect forward flip with a half twist. His acrobatics ended in a graceful three point landing next to his bike.

He glanced up in time to see Logan's bike go flying past the mouth of the alley.

"Sonuva…"

Leaping up, he climbed on his bike and kicked it to a roaring start. With his engine screaming, he took off like a shot and nearly got his fool self killed by the car coming down the street when he pulled out into traffic without slowing down. Horns blared and he swerved out of the way at the last second. Remy nearly lost control of the powerful machine, but then brought it to heel through the strength of his muscles and the sheer determination of his willpower.

"Woo! Wee!" He whooped with delight as he slalomed through the thick traffic. His manic grin threatened to split his face in half as adrenaline slammed through his system.

=Don't get ya'self killed, Gambit!= Logan's voice growled out of the communicator. =Divorce is one thing, but don't make me a widower.=

Remy laughed as he quickly caught up to Logan.

=Don' fret, husband. Take more'n a spill on de bike t' take out de ragin' Cajun.=

A snort came through the communicator loud and clear.

=Bitch's in the blue Audi. Two cars up in the far left lane.=

Remy's eyes quickly snapped up and over.

=Got'er, mon ami.=

* * *

Martinique was singing along to the radio softly under her breath when she pulled onto the onramp for I-5 South.

She couldn't help her good mood really. As much as she wasn't looking forward to meeting up with Pierce in person, she was glad this assignment was nearly over. She had an incredible urge to leave the southwest United States. Perhaps even the North American continent altogether.

Her eyes flickered to her rearview and away.

Then, she clenched the steering wheel and looked in her rearview mirror more intently. There, three car lengths back, were two large powerful motorcycles riding side-by-side. Not that uncommon in the States, but it was the riders that were important in this case.

Wolverine and Gambit.

"Shit!"

How did they find her? And, oh god, what were they going to do to her for marrying them off to each other?

Dammit! They were supposed to be floundering around in Las Vegas in a panic!

"Shit!"

* * *

Remy couldn't have removed the grin from his face with a crowbar. He couldn't help it, he loved high speed chases. Hell, he loved high speed driving for any reason at all. The rush of the wind in his hair, the thrum of the big engine growling between his legs, the sensation that he was completely in tune with his own sense of the kinetic.

Motion.

Energy.

It was a nearly zen-like sensation for him and the whole world just make complete sense.

Martinique must have realized they were following her, because she kept speeding up as she swerved more and more recklessly through the thick traffic. However, Remy was completely in tune with his bike and the world around him and Logan was just far too skilled a rider. She wasn't going to lose them or shake them off her trail.

They slid in and out of traffic, zooming past cars and along the dangerously narrow channels of space between two lanes and along the shoulder. Horns honked indignantly and more than a few people flipped them off. Remy barely noticed them and from the fierce grin on Logan's face, he couldn't possibly care less about the disgruntled commuters they left in their wake.

=Soon as she's put some space between her an' the other drivers, try an' take out her tires, Gambit.=

For a second, Remy's smile widened even more.

=D'Accord. Been a while since Gambit got t' blow somet'in' up.=

Remy's eyes scanned the road ahead of them. There. She only had to pass three more cars and then she'd pull out ahead of traffic. He'd let her get a bit out ahead away from everyone else.

They weaved through cars and then they were out in open space; the road empty in front of them except for Martinique. The little blue Audi suddenly began to pour on the speed.

His eyes glowing with glee, Remy lifted a hand off of his handlebars and reached into one of the pouches strapped to his waist and thigh. Carefully, he slid out three cards.

Deuce of Hearts, Jack of Diamonds, and the Ace of Spades. How apropos.

As soon as he felt Martinique had put enough space between herself and the other vehicles on the interstate, Remy reached for the kinetic potential in the cards and excited the molecules to a glowing explosive state. Taking careful aim, he flung them at the Audi.

_**sssssssss-Ba-BOOM!**_

The Audi exploded into the air in a rolling ball of fire, force, and noise. It tumbled, end over nose; once, twice. Then it hit the ground with an unholy screech of twisting metal and shredding plastic before beginning a death spin, rolling along the asphalt. Remy grabbed onto the handlebars and swerved out of the path of destruction and raining bits of vehicle falling from the sky.

=Nice.=

Remy flashed a wide grin at Logan.

=Y' welcome.=

Another one of Logan's snorts came through the communicator even as they both downshifted and braked to a stop next to the wreck. Behind them in the distance, horns began blaring again as the other vehicles tried to slow down and shift lanes to avoid the debris field. Remy and Logan ignored all that though, and climbed off their bikes.

The Audi was resting on what was left of its smashed and shattered roof, the two front tires still spinning lazily. It was tilted at an alarming angle. Remy walked up the passenger side even as Logan headed for the driver's.

Remy glanced through the backseat window. He could see the heavy metal case containing the power source lying cockeyed on what used to be the ceiling. He couldn't really see Martinique from this angle, though.

"She alive in dere, mon ami?"

Logan crouched down and peered in the driver's window and grunted.

"Yeah. Looks outta it, though."

Remy heard the soft _snikt_ sound of Logan's claws being unsheathed and then he watched as the other man punched directly into the door, all three adamantium claws sliding through the metal like a knife through butter. It took less then ten seconds for Logan to slice away the door.

He reached in and went directly for the keys in the ignition and turned off the engine. Then he sliced away the seatbelt and yanked Martinique out.

Figuring that Logan had everything in hand there, Remy quickly picked the lock on the door in front of him and tried to yank it open. Took a bit of elbow grease, but the door finally gave way to his strength with a squeal of protest. Crouching down, he reached in and grabbed the case and carefully examined it. Thankfully, it had survived the crash intact.

He slid it over and out of the car. Standing up with it, he turned around and stumbled from a wash of dizziness. Burnt cinnamon wafted past his nose.

That scent was familiar, somehow, but he couldn't quite remember from where. He looked around, slightly confused. Something tickled in his brain and his skin started to darken as a seductive icy rage washed up from within.

Death?

"…non…" he whispered in horror.

He couldn't be turning back into Death of the Horsemen! Not here, not now! Not ever!

He shook his head in an attempt to focus and pushed Death back down into the pits of his mind with all his strength. Slowly, his skin began to pale again to its normal healthy tones and he was left trembling from the effort.

Logan was staring at him with deep concern and wariness etched onto his face and Remy stared back horror struck and wishing he could explain why that had just happened again.

Suddenly, he knew. It was Martinique trying to play her nasty little mindgames again. He could feel her thoughts sliding through his shields. Gritting his teeth, he hissed in anger and slammed his psi-shields shut as tight as they could go.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the woman flinch back and sway on her feet, a trickle of blood dripping from her nose.

"Stay outta m' head, y' bitch!"

Logan's eyes widened in realization and he shook his whole body like a dog shaking water out of its fur.

"Oh no ya don't! Ya ain't gonna play them games."

Remy panted, trying to steady his nerves as Logan stalked over to Martinique.

"I ain't gonna let ya release Death inta the world again!"

Logan retracted his claws and curled his hand into a fist. Then he swung out and cracked Martinique across the jaw. Instantly, her eyes rolled up into her head and she crashed to the ground with a solid thump.

Remy and Logan's eyes met over the upturned car's underbelly and they stared solemnly at each other.

"I don't normally like ta hit frails, but damn, that felt good."

Remy threw back his head and laughed, the tension draining out of him as Death finally settled back into his mind and fell asleep again.

"Y' might be a complex man, Canucklehead…but y' got simple pleasures."

"Stow it, Gumbo." Logan said through his smirk. "We gotta get outta here before the authorities arrive."

Just then, a small mini-jet slid across the sky, looped around and headed in for a landing on the interstate.

"Too late, mon ami."

The mini-jet landed with a loud roar, throwing up a bunch of dust and smoke. It settled onto the asphalt with a resounding thud. The hatch opened with a hiss of hydraulics and their old teammate, Beast leapt out. He performed a perfect three-point twist before his paws even touched ground.

Remy and Logan grinned widely at him.

Next, a beautiful red haired woman with generous curves slid out of the mini-jet to land beside Hank. She was wearing a skin tight black leather cat suit that showed off her cleavage delightfully.

Logan nodded at them even as Remy walked around the car.

"Blue. Darlin'."

"M'sieur Bete. Mademoiselle Romanova."

Hank blinked at them in surprise and adjusted his glasses.

"Wolverine, Gambit…" he looked around at the wreck. "What are you…wait. Let me guess. Is that the lovely Martinique Jason, otherwise known as The Mastermind II, lying at your feet?"

Logan nodded. "Sure is."

Remy tilted his head in confusion and reached up to scratch his chin.

"How y' know dat, mon ami? Met her b'fore?"

Hank shook his head and grinned a smile filled with razor sharp fangs. He chuckled and bounded over to them with the Black Widow following him. She was smirking in a way that was both sexy and dangerous.

"No. However, Moon Knight received a report from one of his agents; a lovely woman named Echo, I believe. She mentioned that the two of you were searching for Mastermind II. Something about industrial espionage, I believe."

Logan nodded.

"Yeah. We contacted Echo while we were chasing her through Vegas."

Both Hank and Natasha's smirks got wider.

"Yes. I was actually on the computers trying to do some research on her that I could forward to you when I came across something rather interesting."

Remy began to get a bad feeling about all the sly smirks. He could literally feel that both Hank and Natasha wanted to giggle madly.

"Quoi?"

Hank cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses again.

"Yes. Just before I was sent out on assignment with the lovely Miss Romanova to investigate your…apprehension of Miss Jason, I came across an interesting website. A very new one, but interesting all the same."

Logan frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Quit beatin' around the bush, bub. What'd ya find?"

Hank nodded, still grinning like mad.

"It seems that Miss Jason scanned a bunch of photos and a few documents onto the internet."

Remy's head dropped down to his chest and he groaned, ignoring Logan's confusion.

"Oh yes, my Acadian compatriot. She posted your marriage license and the photos of your wedding for all to see."

"Gambit's gonna kill 'er."

He looked up, his red eyes glowing and his lips set in a scowl. Logan just looked stunned, as if it never occurred to him that such a thing could happen.

"Non! He gonna have Bella kill 'er. She knows how t' make it painful as all hell an' last for days."

Natasha was snickering quietly.

"I must say," Hank said with a fake pout. "I'm a little upset that I wasn't invited. My lovely blue fur would have fit right in with the crowds if those pictures are to be believed. Plus, I wanted to dance with the bride."

Natasha snorted through her nose and waved a hand at them.

"Yeah, but which one's the bride?"

Hank chuckled and shrugged.

"Sacre' mere." Remy reached up to pinch his nose.

Then Logan snapped out of whatever mental hell he'd been in and his head whipped around to glare at the woman lying in a sprawl on the ground. A low threatening growl rumbled out of his chest. The claws on both fists slashed out to gleam in the sun. Humiliation and rage battered against Remy's psi-shields in hot pulsing waves.

"Merde!"

Dropping the case, Remy leapt for Logan and landed on the other man's back. Logan didn't even so much as stumble from his weight, but Remy wrapped his arms around Logan's arms and braced himself. He had to somehow keep the man from disemboweling Martinique.

Hank and Natasha's humor dropped in an instant. Natasha elbowed Hank and pointed at Martinique.

"We'd better get her out of here before Logan gets himself free."

"Yes, quite right."

Then Hank bounded over and lifted Martinique up and draped her over his shoulder. Leaping up into the air, he flipped over backwards only to land next to Natasha again, Martinique still in his grasp.

Logan growled and tried to shake Remy off his back, but he clung on tightly and held on.

"Calm down, homme. Shhh, its okay. Calm down."

Logan ignored Remy; both the fact that he was clinging on his back and yammering in his ear. Instead, he just stalked after his prey lying limp in Hank's arms while dragging Remy along for the ride.

"Aw hell," Natasha muttered as she stepped between them and Hank. She lifted one arm to aim her Widow Bites at her old friend and prayed she wouldn't have to pull the trigger.

Remy yanked on Logan's arms again and yelled, "LOGAN! STOP!"

Logan came to a halt, but his claws kept sliding in and out of his forearms with restless agitation and Remy could feel his muscles trembling with the strain of not going off in a killing rage.

"Come'on, ami. We take de case an' get back on our bikes, oui? Let M'sieur Bete deal wit' de femme. We can trust Henri t' take care of her, henh?"

Logan growled deeply in his chest for a long minute and then he seemed to relax slightly.

"Fine! Hank, you take your red head and that…bitch an' get her out o' my face."

Then he snorted and shook Remy off. This time Remy let him as he slid off the man's back and onto his feet.

"An' I'll take my red head an' the case."

Then Logan turned and stomped away with a growled out, "Come'on, Cajun. Let's get outta here."

Remy frowned and reached up to pull a strand of hair in front of his face. He studied the auburn lock with its deep red highlights.

"Red head? Always t'ought Gambit be more a brunette, me."

Natasha shrugged at him and grinned.

"And as if I'd belong to any man. Even one as fine as Hank."

They shared sympathetic looks and turned to follow their respective partners to their vehicles.

* * *

Remy stepped out of the UPS store and squinted behind his sunglasses. California sunshine was just too damn bright. Sighing, he sauntered over to where Logan was leaning on his bike and smoking a cigar.

"Got it mailed off okay?"

Remy nodded even as he straddled his own bike.

"Oui. Expensive, t'ough. Even just sendin' de case off t' de San Fran compound 'cause it so damn heavy."

Logan just nodded, not caring how much it cost to mail off the power source they'd taken from Martinique to the X-Men's San Francisco base. Remy watched him a moment as he puffed on the cigar and fiddled with his keys.

"Well…now what, homme?"

Logan's blue eyes shifted over to his for a moment and Remy wondered if his heightened senses allowed Logan to see through the dark tint of his shades to the red on black eyes behind them.

"Called them ta let 'em know the case was coming."

Remy nodded, then shrugged. He'd expected as much.

"New assignment? We supposed t' meet up wit' de girls again?"

Logan's teeth ground together for a moment.

"Naw. They think the girls did good under Cannonball's leadership. Want ta try an' form a team around 'em. They're sendin' Pixie an' Elixer ta get more experience an' Maddrox ta act as Sam's second in command."

Remy considered it. It wasn't a bad mix. Sam Guthrie was practically raised by the teams, Cable in particular. He was damn good at what he did. Maddrox had spent time with both Excalibur and X-Force and was also very good at what he did. He was also the perfect second since he could handle all the paperwork and logistics like a pro. Havoc had taught him well.

With Boom Boom most likely taking on Den Mother status, both Jubilee and Laura would be in good hands as far as the social scene went. And Laura needed a dose of that badly.

Skill sets and power wise, it would be a good mix as well. They had close fighters, long range fighters, flyers, and even a healer. It'd be a good team if Cannonball could get them all on the same page.

Finally, Remy nodded again and offered up a small smirk.

"Be a good team. Plus, it'd give Pixie an' Elixer a good dose of field work an' Laura a good taste of family wit'out de craziness of everyone all piled t'get'er at once."

Logan just nodded and then calmly stubbed out the cigar.

"Yep."

Remy waited a moment and when nothing else was forthcoming, he sighed.

"An' what about us, homme?"

Logan grimaced.

"Got congratulated on our weddin' an' asked where I was takin' ya for the honeymoon."

Remy's eyes shifted a bit and he noted that Logan was still wearing the marriage bracelet on his wrist. He wanted to ask why it was still there when he knew that Logan didn't like to hear about it…or possibly even think about it.

"What'd y' tell 'em?"

Logan smirked and stood up. He swung his leg over the bike and settled into the saddle.

"Vegas."

The city's name shifted into his brain, and slowly he began to smile.

"Well all right…laissez les bon temps rouler."


End file.
